


Neal and the Very, Very Bad Nosebleed

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nosebleed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2291975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal's minor medical problem leads to major concern for Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neal and the Very, Very Bad Nosebleed

**Author's Note:**

> I was hanging out in chat the other evening, and a plot bunny which I believe originally came from [](http://sheenianni.livejournal.com/profile)[**sheenianni**](http://sheenianni.livejournal.com/) was passed along to me. Then [](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/profile)[**kanarek13**](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/) made awesome art, and I had no choice but to write the story. :) Thank you to [](http://angelita26.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelita26**](http://angelita26.livejournal.com/) and [](http://pooh-collector.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://pooh-collector.livejournal.com/)**pooh_collector** for enabling and title help.

[](https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/d9wo3hskw2wra3j/nealnosebleed.png)  
art by [](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/profile)[**kanarek13**](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/). Click to embiggen.

~~~

Peter had been in the office since just after 6am, the result of Elizabeth being out of town and a backlog of paperwork that seemed more appealing than staying at home, awake and bored. In the middle of slogging through his reports, he was struck with an idea that could help break open the art theft case they’d been working on. Neal wasn’t due in the office for another hour, but Peter decided it was late enough that Neal was probably awake. He called Neal on the drive uptown, and when it rolled to voicemail Peter assumed that Neal was probably in the shower and would be ready to go by the time Peter arrived.

Peter drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, pleased at the prospect of a productive day. At June’s house, the maid let Peter in, and he jogged up the stairs to Neal’s door. He knocked but didn’t bother waiting for a response before turning the doorknob and entering.

He couldn’t see Neal in the apartment’s main room, and it was too chilly of a morning for coffee on the terrace. “Hey, Neal?” There was no response, and Peter didn’t hear the shower running so he walked around the corner to the bedroom area to make sure Neal wasn’t still asleep. The bedding was rumpled but empty, and Peter had started to turn around when an unexpected splash of color caught his eye. One of Neal’s cream-colored pillow cases was almost halfway covered with red stains—blood, not quite dry.

“What the hell?” Peter did a visual sweep of the room, including under the bed, then pulled out his weapon and held it at his side as he started to sweep the rest of the apartment. “Neal!” Peter walked closer to the bathroom and dressing room and called out again, “Neal!”

“Just a minute!” Neal’s voice came from behind the closed door of the huge closet, and he sounded normal enough, if stuffy from the slight cold that had been forcing him to use his handkerchief as something other than an accessory. Peter nudged the bathroom door open and saw splotches of blood on the mat in front of the sink. His heart pounded as he turned and hurried back to the door of the dressing room.

“Neal, I’m coming in.”

“Just a—“

Peter pushed the door open to find Neal standing in a suit with no shoes on and his tie half-tied. “What happened?”

“You’re the one who burst in here with your weapon drawn. Why don’t _you_ tell _me_ what happened?” Neal raised his eyebrows in annoyance as he finished tying his tie and stepped into his untied shoes.

Peter put his weapon back in its holster. “Your bed—it looked like you'd been shot or something.”

“Not quite. Just a nosebleed.”

“That looked like one hell of a nosebleed.”

“A little blood goes a long way, and you know it. It’s just the dry air.”

“And that cold you’re nursing.” Now that he was looking, Peter could see that Neal’s nose was pink, a break in the image of perfection Neal usually tried to attain. “You’re irritating your nose.”

“Somebody’s irritating something,” Neal groused.

“Yeah, yeah. You about ready?”

“What are you doing here anyway? Cleaning up my face took some extra time, but I know I’m not late.”

“I got a break in the museum case and didn’t want to wait.”

Neal bent down to tie his shoes then stood up and buttoned his jacket. “Just let me put that pillowcase in some water to soak, then I’ll grab some coffee to go.”

~~~

Instead of heading straight to the office, Peter drove to the museum that had been robbed so that he and Neal could talk to the morning shift security guards. All of them had already been interviewed by the team, but Peter didn’t think they’d dug deeply enough. Neal hadn’t been with the agents who did the initial investigation on-site, so Peter wanted him to look at the museum’s storage vault himself rather than relying on photos of the scene.

The vault room was cooler than the rest of the museum, and Peter noticed that Neal buttoned up the wool overcoat that he’d opened when they first went inside the museum. “You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just like the arctic in here.”

“Well, get excited about looking for holes in the security system. That should warm you up.”

“I do enjoy ruining a head of security’s day.” Neal smirked then went to work checking out the electronics as well as the physical points of access. Peter was discussing the situation with museum staff member, Mindy, who had been sent to accompany them when he heard Neal mutter, “shit.”

Swearing was unlike Neal, especially in a professional situation, and Peter turned quickly to see Neal on his knees next to a grate near the floor. “Did you find something?”

“No. I—uh—“ Neal twisted around to sit with his back against the wall as a stream of blood flowed from his right nostril down over his lips and chin. Neal grabbed for his handkerchief and held it over his nose, but Peter could see the thin fabric quickly turning useless.

“I’ll go get some paper towels,” Mindy said, and Peter nodded to her as he went over to crouch in front of Neal.

“Come on, tilt your head back.” Peter gave Neal the tissues from his pocket then put his hand on the back of Neal’s neck and nudged him until Neal complied. The blood wasn’t exactly gushing from Neal’s nose, but it wasn’t stopping either. Neal had a handful of blood-soaked fabric and tissue by the time Mindy returned with a roll of paper towels. She pulled off a few and handed them to Peter then knelt down on the floor.

“You should be tilting your head forward a little bit, not back,” she said. “And squeeze your nose hard.”

Peter put the handful of thick paper towels over the bloody mess on Neal’s nose and squeezed Neal’s hand over it while he guided Neal’s head forward. A refresher first-aid course was definitely in his future. Peter’s thighs ached from crouching and he let go of Neal long enough to sit down next to him. “You think it’s slowing down?”

Neal nodded, but didn’t remove the wad of towels from his face. Peter could see some spots of blood soaking through the layers of paper towels, but not as much as would be there if the flow hadn’t been slowing down.

“Good. Just relax.” Neal had no choice but to breathe through his mouth, but as his shoulders relaxed back against the wall his panicked pants slowed to a steadier breathing pattern. After another couple of minutes, Neal tentatively pulled the towels away from his face and accepted a clean one from Mindy. As he dabbed at his nose, Peter didn’t see any fresh blood flowing.

Neal swallowed hard and made a disgusted face. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

Mindy stood up. “I’m going to send somebody with gloves to clean this up, so you can just leave the paper towels and everything here. I assume you’re both done here for right now.”

Peter looked up at her and nodded. “Yes, thank you. Neal, you ready to stand up?”

“Yeah. I’d like to find a restroom to clean up before we leave though.”

“Good idea.” Peter stood and held his hand out to pull Neal to his feet. As soon as he was standing, Neal’s face turned pale, and he wavered on his feet. Peter swore under his breath as he took a quick step closer to hold Neal up against the wall with both hands on his shoulders. “Neal?”

Neal squeezed his eyes closed then opened them wide. “Just a little dizzy. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look particularly fine.” Peter took one hand and then the other away from Neal’s shoulders but stayed close. “I think you need to get checked out.”

“I just want to clean up. I’m okay.” Neal stepped away from the wall, and he looked steady enough if slower than normal as he walked out of the vault and down the hall to the men’s room. Neal grimaced at the sight of himself in the mirror as he pulled off his overcoat and jacket; blood was smeared on his face as well as his tie and shirt. He spit blood into the sink and rinsed out his mouth before spitting again then cleaned himself up with hand soap and paper towels.

By the time Neal was done he looked better, but there was no way Peter was willing to take him back to the office. Neal had earned himself the rest of the day lounging at home, and Peter would return to look over the vault himself. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I—“ Neal frowned and put a hand on his stomach. “Just a sec.” He all but dove into the closest stall, and Peter cringed at the sound of Neal being sick but hung back to give Neal some privacy. After a minute, the toilet flushed, and Peter heard Neal climb to his feet. “Sorry,” Neal said faintly as he leaned against the metal frame of the stall door, his face as pale as it had been before.

Peter went closer to put a hand on his arm. “Yeah, you’re going to get checked out. No arguments.”

“I just got nauseated from the blood I swallowed.” Neal pushed away and took a couple of unsteady steps back to the sink. He rinsed out his mouth again then stood leaning against the counter as if it was holding him up.

“I said no arguments.” Peter ignored Neal’s frown and reached out to put a hand on his face. The skin there was not only pale but also cool, and Peter didn’t like it one bit. “I know you feel like hell. I just want to make sure there’s nothing else going on.”

“Fine.” Neal sighed. He didn’t look like he had the energy to argue, but he looked defeated as Peter helped him into his jacket and coat.

Peter kept a hand on his back as they left the building then drove to the urgent care clinic that he thought was least likely to be crowded on a weekday morning. He got Neal registered then sat checking his email in the waiting room while Neal was being examined. The longer Neal stayed back in the treatment area, the more concerned Peter grew, but finally he walked out looking significantly less pale than he had before.

Peter met him at the checkout desk. “So, what’s the verdict?”

Neal shrugged. “I’m fine. I have a cold, my sinuses are irritated, and the cold, dry weather we’re having right now made it worse. Add in the extra dry air in the climate controlled storage vault, and you know what happened.”

“Did they give you anything?”

“They gave me some fluids for the blood loss, though I would have been fine without them, and some kind of ointment to put in my nose. I think they’re charging me $60 for prescription vaseline.”

Peter put his card on the counter. “You mean they’re charging _me_ $60 for prescription vaseline. And it’s worth it to know you’re okay.” Peter bumped his shoulder against Neal’s. “You scared me back there.”

Neal looked over to meet Peter’s gaze and nodded. “I might’ve been worried for minute myself.”

Peter signed the credit card receipt while Neal took his other paperwork. “Let’s get out of here. I’m taking you home.”

“I would argue, but—“

“But there’s no point, and you’re ready to fall asleep anyway.”

“Right.”

“Stay home the rest of today and tomorrow. Rest. Drink juice. Use your fancy vaseline. Try to keep your blood inside where it belongs.”

Neal gave Peter a tired smile. “I’ll do my best.”

“See that you do.”

Against Neal’s protests, Peter saw him up the stairs to his apartment then went to ask June’s maid if there was a humidifier in the house. When he returned with the apparatus, Neal had changed into a clean t-shirt and sleep pants and was leaning against the kitchen counter drinking a glass of juice. Peter filled the humidifier with water then plugged it in near Neal’s bed.

“I’ll see you in the office on Thursday unless you’re not feeling better. Call if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay. I think I’m good though.”

“Good.” Peter gathered up his coat and keys and turned to leave.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Peter thought about how he’d felt, finding Neal’s bloody pillow and imagining the worst and then seeing him almost pass out cold. He didn’t want to wait forty-some hours to see if Neal was doing better. “You know, El is out of town. I’ll be working a little late, but I could bring over dinner afterward. If you want.”

“Will you go to the Japanese place with the miso soup I like? And the ginger noodles?”

Peter laughed. “Sure. I’ll call you when I’m on my way. Sleep well.”

Neal nodded and put his glass in the sink, and Peter turned to leave. He had a full day ahead of him, a case that needed to be cracked without Neal’s help, but he didn’t really care. Neal was okay, and somehow everything else was too.


End file.
